


everyday life at an everyday school

by jelbertie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts Era, Original Character(s), Other, Series of Oneshots, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelbertie/pseuds/jelbertie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry's not the only student at hogwarts, there are many other students with many other tales to tell, after all hogwarts is a school full of teenagers making lifelong memories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucy Jones and the Potions Book

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Hogwarts was a school full of people just living their everyday lives that we just don't see. I wanted to explore that, so here we are. This will be a series of oneshots that all take place within the era of the books. I'm working with a canon list of characters, and OCs, which can be found here  
> ( https://docs.google.com/document/d/18w9xYvIcsnfIv6W4th3W2zVVzWzv1nSFvQ7RhxX9Z44/edit?usp=sharing )

**1993**

Lucy was freaking out.

She wasn’t quite sure why Professor Snape had asked to speak to her after class, but considering she was a Gryffindor, it couldn’t be good news. He was probably going to give her a month’s worth of detention because of that time she called him a bat in first year. Okay, so that was three years ago and she had said it to _herself_ but it was a total possibility.

Or maybe he was going to use her as a test subject on his latest potions experiment. She could grow another arm, or wings, or maybe even a second head. Not even St Mungos would be able to fix it and she would be stuck as a mutated mess for the rest of her life.

This was just fantastic.

“Hey Jones, you look pale.” Zoe Accrington had turned around, away from her potion, and the Slytherin was staring at Lucy.

“I’m fine.”

“Hey Zoe, leave the pathetic worm and help me.” Her potions partner, Warrington, was tapping Zoe on the arm, but if Accrington was good at anything it was her glare.

“We’re working on that brew together, you creep. So work on it.” She turned back to Lucy. “I have to check on someone.”

The two girls shared a smile. Everyone in their year knew they were friends, no one could figure it out though and the two didn’t feel particularly inclined to let them. However Zoe could always tell when Lucy was having a signature freak out.

“You alright?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah.” Lucy replied, nodding slightly. “Just a bit panicked.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m a Gryffindor.” Lucy said as if that was an explanation. Suddenly, the expected _pop_ from her potion that told her the porcupine quills had fully disintegrated spurred Lucy into action. She had her ladle in hand and was stirring, twice anti-clockwise followed by three clockwise rotations, almost as if it was on instinct. Zoe watched this with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re also a potions genius. Your Wit Sharpening brew is almost complete, how did you skip the third step?”

“You don’t need to wait fifteen minutes if add an extra 4 grams of crushed scarab beetles.”

“How the hell did you figure that out.”

“Experimentation. I may have singed off my eyebrows more times than most.” Zoe laughed and rolled her eyes in a way that clearly said _‘Bloody Gryffindors.’_

With a last check over and a wink, Zoe seemed to conclude that Lucy was okay enough for her to go back to her own potion, which Warrington had warped beyond repair and was clearly going to be on the wrong side of an Accrington rant. As much as she didn’t like the guy, Lucy wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

The fourth year potions class was pretty lively, especially for first thing on a Monday morning, but Lucy was brewing her own potion in silence. The class had an odd number of students and Professor Snape immediately insisted that Lucy Jones should be the one left on her own. No partner to back her up.

She’d moaned throughout September but when her friends asked her to check over their assignments, Lucy realised it was probably for the best that they wouldn’t get their hands on her concoctions. She didn’t like saying it, but sometimes she couldn’t deny that she was a _little bit_ of a potions prodigy.

And with a final dash of Ginger Root, the potion was done. The dark orange it was meant to be and the smell already clearing Lucy’s head. She turned off the heat, bottled what she had made and started grinding up Billywig Stings for her batch of Wideeye Potion currently bubbling away at the bottom of her bed. It was always useful to have some to hand.

“Hey Luce.” She looked up at the sound of Zoe being bored.

“Yeah?”

“What would be the absolute worst ingredient to add to this mess.” The Slytherin gestured to her failure of a potion, which had turned a glistening white. Warrington must have added the Ginger Root before the Armadillo Bile and only left it to simmer for 3 minutes instead of 5. Rookie mistake.

Lucy grinned.

“Try this.” She handed Zoe a Doxy Egg. With the Bile not able to combine with the root, some of it would still be volatile, and everyone knows that volatile substances and Doxy Eggs were a match made in…

BOOM!

Whoops.

Lucy hid her laugh in her sleeve as Professor Snape swooped down the aisle and found the potion.

“ _What_ on earth were you thinking?” He asked. Zoe put on her best dumbfounded face, which was extremely convincing, and Warrington still looked guilty from ruining the potion before. So Snape naturally singled him out. “A Doxy Egg is not something to mess around with.”

“But sir…”

“No ‘buts,’ that will be three points from Slytherin. Now add 30 grams of porcupine quills to get yourselves back on track.”

And just like that, Snape was gone. Typical. If a Gryffindor had exploded their potion and singed the ceiling, they’d have a week’s worth of detention and lost at least 50 points. But no. Lucy glared at the Professor as he sat down at his desk, but another wink from Zoe eased her frustration.

It had been pretty funny.

Before she knew it, the Potions lesson was over and everyone was hurrying to pack their things away and enter their Wit Sharpening Potions, although some of them definitely didn’t deserve that name, for marking. Half the class had already left when Lucy carefully placed her vial on Professor Snape’s desk.

“Sir, you wanted to talk to me.”

“Ah yes. Miss Jones.” Professor Snape opened one of his desk drawers and Lucy gulped. Then she prayed that it wasn’t audible. “In every fourth year class there is at least one standout with the hope of achieving an O at O.W.L. Rarely is it a Gryffindor, but I cannot deny that you have promise.”

“Thank you sir.” Lucy thanked her Gryffindor courage that she didn’t stammer.

“To ensure the success of the student that deserves it, there is a special textbook that has many academic perspectives on the art of potion making that you are sure to understand.” Professor Snape removed the book from his desk drawer and held it out, as an offer. “I expect to see you in my N.E.W.T class in two years, Miss Jones. Understood?”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” Lucy quickly took the book and stuffed it into her bag. “I have to get to Charms, so...see ya.”

“Miss Jones?”

“Yes Professor Snape.”

“Don’t disappoint me.” And then he did something that freaked Lucy out more than she had been at his summons. He smiled. Ew. “Good luck.”

Lucy made a gargled sound, that she hoped sounded like thank you and did not portray how weird she thought Professor Snape was. This was almost worse than punishment. Then she promptly left.

However, on the way to Charms she had to appreciate the book he had given her. There were articles from Arsenius Jigger, Mercurus Cauld and Incendia Knightsbane. Lucy could learn so much from this, she could start her path to becoming a true potions master. That would be cool. Totally not because of Snape though, he was just a creep.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Merlin’s beard Zoe, you scared me!” Zoe just laughed, looked around and dragged Lucy behind a painting on the first floor. “I’ve gotta get to charms Zo…”

Then her girlfriend kissed her on the cheek and slipped a scrap of parchment into her pocket.

“Next date: secret passageway directions and a time. Be there.”

“I always am.” Lucy smiled.

“You can tell me about how you got punished for being a lion in a serpent’s den.” Zoe laughed, and then ran towards Transfiguration.

  
Lucy hugged her new book to her chest, smiling at the anticipation of her and Zoe’s next meeting and was filled with happiness at just how lucky she was, and how great her day had turned out to be.


	2. Owen Cauldwell and the Gobstones Match

**1995**

Things were about to get real.

Owen was late for Gobstones Club and his team captain would not stand for tardiness. Or losing. Losing came from tardiness apparently, although if that was true then Owen would be failing Transfiguration. It was a long walk from the ground to the seventh floor, alright, not his fault he couldn’t travel that distance in under 10 minutes.

Maybe Owen should just leave the Hufflepuff Common Room earlier? 

But that would be too easy. 

Finally, after what felt like a half an hour walk from the Great Hall, although it had actually been closer to five minutes, Owen Cauldwell waltzed into the Hufflepuff Gobstones team’s practice room.

“What time do you call this?” The team captain, Fletcher Irvine, was standing with his arms folded, glaring at the door, ready for Owen’s arrival. God damn it. 

“Time for me to start getting ready for Wednesday’s match?” Owen replied with a grin. Fletcher didn’t appreciate the grin.

“It’s  _ time _ for you to get a watch, buddy.”

“Wow, passive aggressive much.”

“You are four years younger than me, you are not allowed to sass me.”

Owen just shrugged and sat down next to another one of his teammates, Wendy Marks. She didn’t look impressed, but Owen didn’t care. He just grabbed his 15 gobstones, ready to begin a match with whoever wanted to challenge him.

It had been an accident, Owen joining Gobstones Club. He’d been dragged there by his dorm mate after a particularly boring History of Magic lesson with promises of ‘fun.’ From there, he’d been scouted by Fletcher as having ‘promise’ to which Owen promised to be a thorn in Fletcher’s side for making him dedicate three nights a week to bloody Gobstones.

He had better things to do than fling smelly marbles at each other.

But Owen still turned up, every practice, typically late but he was still there. And he had helped the team beat Gryffindor in the November match, which was pretty cool. Not that Owen would ever tell Fletcher that. His team captain would never let him forget it.

Said team captain was sitting down opposite Owen with his gobstones, ready to start a match.

“Win against me and I’ll drop your punishment.”

“Bring it on, you son of a kneazle.” 

Fletcher just smirked and threw the first gobstone, showing that this was a classic match. Meaning maximum stinksap. 

Wendy shuffled out of the way of the two players.

Slowly but surely, Fletcher and Owen were covered in the foul smelling liquid as the match progressed. Every time a gobstone opened up, Wendy would laugh so loud that she made the players jump, which was a nice break from the intense pressure Owen was feeling to succeed. Not that Fletcher had punished any member of Gobstones club before, and so he probably wouldn’t now, but at this point it had become a matter of pride.

Also the fact that Fletcher was the team captain and Owen was a first year, and it would be awesome to hand the team captain’s ass back to him on a silver platter.

And there they were. Fletcher had knocked out six of Owen’s gobstones, and the younger boy had knocked out five of his opponents. The two had acclimated to the smell and Fletcher had a scary kind of fire in his eye that a fifth year really shouldn’t be getting about a  _ gobstones _ match.

The team captain assessed the board, picked his stone, and aimed. It was a tricky shot, the stone he was aiming for was right on the edge, and so he couldn’t afford to miss. His tongue was stuck out in concentration and Owen could barely stand to look when Fletcher finally flinged the gobstone. 

There it went.

It rolled.

And rolled.

Tapped Owen’s stone, but somehow not hard enough to knock it out.

Continued rolling past it.

And Fletcher’s gobstone flew out of the ring. Wendy’s laughter filled the room again as Fletcher was squirted with stinksap, and it was clear that Fletcher was trying not to swear in front of an eleven year old. 

An eleven year old who was lining up the last shot of the match. It was easy, a clear line with minimal force required, and Owen was pretty damn good at Gobstones. To rub it in further, he didn’t even look at his stone when he rolled it; instead choosing to meet his team captain’s eye and grin as he knocked his final ball out of the arena. 

“Jackpot.”

“Congratu-spafuns!”

“Did someone forget about the sap?” Owen asked in an extremely patronising voice.

“Thut up.” Fletcher moaned, but the thumbs up he gave at the match told Owen he’d done a good job. Then the team captain ran out of the room, presumably to find a bathroom in which to clean out his mouth. 

“Impressive.” Wendy remarked as she helped clear away the match, giggling when Owen accidentally rubbed some sap into his eye and squawked in pain. She had a weird sense of humour. “You know you should go easier on Fletch, he’s just trying to make Hufflepuff win something. For once.”

“Wait, Hufflepuff lose a lot?”

“Oh honey.”

“They should have told me that before I was sorted here.” Owen sulked. Then Wendy threw some stinksap at him and his moaning was forgotten so he could get revenge.

“Seriously though,” Wendy laughed. “I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked you off the team.”

“He can’t. I’m too good.” 

“Yeah right.” Owen didn’t even have time to be offended before she continued. “I think you remind him of himself. Too cheeky for your own good.”

“I’m only a year younger than you, you can’t treat me like your son.”

“Watch me.” She grinned. 

The two packed away, laughing and joking, ready for Wednesday’s match against Ravenclaw. If they lost they’d have no chance at winning the Hogwarts league, but after what Owen had heard about the Ravenclaw team’s skills, they weren’t about to lose. Despite the competition though, Owen was grateful that he’d found such a tight knit club in Hogwarts. The three of them treated each other like annoying cousins with a shared hobby and it was always nice to have friends in the year above.

  
Even if Fletcher treated Gobstones like it was a game of life or death.


	3. Willow Underwood and the Final Exam

**1994**

“Five minutes remaining.”

No. No no no no no no no no. Five minutes? How the hell were there only five minutes left in this bloody exam? Willow Underwood felt her hand stop caring about the pain as she started writing as fast as possible. She was only halfway through her essay on human transfiguration, her future depending on what she wrote in the next  _ five minutes oh merlin that was not enough time. _

Willow wasn’t the only one who seemed to be panicked at the teacher’s announcement. The tension in the Great Hall could be cut with a knife. It was the final theory exam for the Transfiguration N.E.W.T, and people were giving it their all. If she had the time to look up, Willow thought she’d be able to see steam rising from the quills of her classmates.

This was a two and a half hour exam, how the hell had she lost track of time so quickly? Willow didn’t even have enough time to consider it, she  _ had  _ to finish this essay. There was an internship at the Ministry waiting for her if she did well enough in Transfiguration and she wasn’t going to lose it because the essay on Gamp’s laws took longer than expected leaving her short on  _ human transfiguration _ . 

The one topic she could actually  _ do _ .

Not that she had.

Nope. Never.

Not even when she was drunk on her 18th and thought her best friend, Rachel Fawley, would look cute with cat ears. Not even then.

_ Anyway _ , conclusion time. Thank God, and Merlin, and Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Mcgonagall and everyone in the universe she was going to finish this goddamn essay and she…

“Time’s up, put your quills down and we will start collecting the papers.”

Like hell Willow was putting her bloody quill down. All she had was “In conclusion;” she hadn’t even  _ concluded _ anything. She just needed one more sentence and she would be golden.  _ Come on Underwood, you got this. _

“Miss Underwood. Put your quill down.”

Oh thank god, it was Professor Mcgonagall. She was an absolute babe of a teacher, she’d give Willow an extra few seconds to finish this sentence. She was reaching down to take Willow’s paper at an exceptionally slow rate. 

Then there was a cough from the seat behind her.

If Willow hadn’t been five seconds away from finishing the sentence she would have turned around and punched Percy Weasley in the goddamn face. Or she wouldn’t because she was under exam conditions and she didn’t want this paper ripped up, but  _ still _ . What an arse. A pompous, know-it-all, stickler-for-the-rules arse. 

Then he coughed again and Willow considered the idea that  _ maybe _ it was a genuine cough. 

Finally, after the longest five seconds of her life, she placed a full stop at the end of the sentence and was  _ done _ with Transfiguration theory. It had been a long time coming. As much as she loved the content, the structure to the exam was  _ brutal _ and Willow could not wait to put it behind her. Put exams behind her in general really, they were the bane of her existence, but she was finally…

Professor Mcgonagall pointed to Willow’s mention of Falco Aesalon being the first known animagus, where the spelling of his name had been horribly butchered. Willow quickly fixed it and then handed in her paper.

So  _ now _ she was finally done. The stress of N.E.W.T.s was officially behind her and she let herself have a huge sigh of relief before she started mentally dissecting every aspect of her essays. At least this hadn’t been the calculations paper, Willow still felt sick after that last question about turning a raven into a writing desk. 

“I will dismiss you one row at a time. Please leave the hall in absolute silence.”

Willow caught Rachel’s eye and smiled. The two would definitely be breaking into their hidden firewhiskey stash tonight. Maybe even try to sneak into the kitchens for a well-deserved, victory pig-out. That is, if the Hufflepuffs didn’t get there first. 

Upon entering the Entrance Hall, Willow realised immediately that she had to get out of the pack of stressed Transfiguration students as quickly as possible. They all looked like they were going to throw up and Percy was loudly explaining the detailed examples of worldwide animagi that he had used in his essay. If it was anyone else, Willow would have been impressed, but you stopped being impressed with someone the moment they got an O in their very first N.E.W.T essay. Asshole.

“Oh no, I didn’t mention Lisette de Lapin. Whatever will I do.” Rachel appeared at Willow’s elbow, gestured to Percy and mock fainted onto her shoulder. “I will have surely failed.”

“I’m sure you’ve done fine, Rachel.” The Head Boy tried, but Rachel and Willow were used to his not-very-comforting attempts at comfort. 

“No Percy, I couldn’t have. Not without talking about the Everest expedition where the mountaineers discovered they could replicate food instead of conjuring it. That’s  _ definite  _ failure.”

“Quit the crap, Rach.” Willow laughed, and then turned to Percy. “So that paper was alright.”

“Indeed. I swear we’ve done that Gamp essay before.” 

“I was thinking the same thing. In March or something, didn’t Mcgonagall give the class an hour long lecture on why our papers were garbage?” Percy’s ears proceeded to turn a deep red. “Oh, let me guess. You aced it didn’t you?”

“I did drop a few marks.”

“Oh yeah?” Rachel smirked. “How many? One?”

“Three.”

“Oh wow, what a complete failure you are.” Rachel playfully hit him on the arm. “You pompous arse.”

The three passed the nervous-looking Divination students, who were due for their final exam in the afternoon, and wished them luck with both sympathy and pity. It may be their fault for taking the subject, but that didn’t mean they deserved the  _ exam _ . From what Willow had heard, it was a killer. 

“Hey kids, I could  _ smell _ the freedom from down the corridor.” The trio’s friend, Ian, came rushing towards them with a giant smile on his face. “Guess who just failed Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Almost definitely not you.” Willow responded. Ian was always like this, convinced he’d failed before he’d even started the exam, and then he still managed to come out with consistent E’s. He underestimated his own ability to work hard, which was surprising since that’s all Hufflepuff really had going for them. 

Ian just finger-gunned in Willow’s direction.

“Ding ding, incorrect answer from the lady in blue.”

The three laughed at their friend, half because of the action and half out of sheer relief. They had made it. Seven years in Hogwarts, through disaster and heartbreak and stress beyond belief and here they were on the other side. Adults, technically, with their academic life behind them. 

Rachel and Willow had become friends the moment they had to share a dorm. It was almost instant, the way friendships are when you’re eleven years old in a new environment desperate for someone to cling to. Luckily, Rachel had turned out to be a pretty solid gal, unlike another dormmate of theirs who had caused more drama than she was worth, and the duo’s friendship survived the mess of being a teenager in Hogwarts. In third year, the girls drafted Ian into their little group since he was their go-to guy for Kettleburn’s three-person projects in Care of Magical Creatures. It was pretty easy, he fit their sense of humour well, and by fourth year their friendship seemed like it would last a lifetime.

What they didn’t expect was Percy Weasley. See, the group of girls plus Ian included fellow Ravenclaw dormmate, Penelope Clearwater, and when she got a boyfriend in fifth year, she insisted he come along to every friend gathering there was. It was gross. They were gross. Willow was not a fan of this arrangement. 

However, get Percy on his own and, despite being a little up his own arse, he was a decent guy. So when the two inevitably broke up, Willow fought to keep Percy in the divorce, to which the other two agreed.

Penelope Clearwater has not said a word to any of them since the end of sixth year.

“Hey guys,” Rachel winked, gesturing to Ravenclaw Tower. “Me and Willow have a firewhiskey stash in our dorm that will be gone tomorrow morning. Care to join?”

Ian got a fire in his eyes that one gets when alcohol is put on the table, and Percy just judgmentally raised his eyebrows. Willow was expecting yet another stern ‘Head Boy lecture’ so she almost fell over when Percy’s strict persona dropped.

“We can use the prefects bathroom, not even the teachers are allowed in there.” The Head Boy suggested. Yes. Percy suggested this. That’s how you know N.E.W.T stress is not a force to be taken lightly. 

“Oh Percy, you are a  _ saint _ .” 

“This is for a singular event and is not a privilege to be taken lightly. Got it?” And the rule-abiding boy they knew was back. He raised an eyebrow to show he was being ‘serious.’

“But…”

“ _ Got it?” _

“Yes Percy.” 

“Thank you.” Percy smiled. This changing back and forth was starting to give Willow whiplash. “I’ll see you there at 7.”

And then he walked off to Gryffindor Tower, probably to…

Wait. What did Percy do when there was nothing to study for? Did he have naps? Was he capable of naps? Willow tried to recall if she’d ever seen him relax for anything in his life. Was tonight going to be the first time he ever let his hair down? This was going to be  _ awesome _ . 

“Well, looks like we’re going to see the legendary drunk Ian again tonight.” Rachel said.

“That’s nothing compared to seeing our Head Boy without his badge.” 

“Oh I know, I’m gonna bring my camera. This  _ needs _ to be documented.”

The two joked away, and Willow casually wondered how much their group dynamic would change when they left Hogwarts. She was excited, scared, anxious and optimistic and every other emotion under the sun. And now that she didn’t have exams on the horizon to worry about, it was hitting her just how close she was to leaving school.

It was terrifying, and it was also completely exhilarating.

And now to getting drunk in the Prefect’s bathroom before responsibility truly slapped her across the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> track the 'everyday hogwarts' tag on tumblr for updates or find me at ravenpuffslytherdor.tumblr.com


	4. Erin Late and the Semi Disaster

**1992**

How the hell do you plan a date in Hogwarts?

Erin had ideas. They were a hopeless romantic, they had fantasized about taking Trevor on a date for months now, but when actually faced with the reality of a  _ date with Trevor _ they couldn’t actually think of anything. Which was an issue. Because they said they would take him on a date. So they had to wow him with their romantic prowess so that their relationship could have an amazing start. Except there was  _ nothing _ romantic about dates in Hogwarts.

If they left the Hufflepuff Common Room then they would have to abide by the curfew. Either that or their date would be ended with a detention from Filch and that was not the goal. Trevor would be mad at Erin and then never speak to them again, and all their friends would take Trevor in the friendship break and Erin would die alone.

Or be petrified alone.

Since that was the school’s threat of the year.

But then if they stayed in the Hufflepuff Common Room then the date would have an audience: the entirety of Hufflepuff. Including all of Erin’s classmates in fourth year and they would almost definitely get way too involved and make the date way too awkward and then nothing more would happen with Trevor because all their bloody asshole friends would scare him away.

So that left Erin with...nothing…

Nada.

The next Hogsmeade visit was three weeks away, and they had already arranged to meet Trevor on Friday night. 

Why did Erin have to go to  _ boarding school _ ?

All their friends back home didn’t have this kind of trouble. They knew. They had written back. Chelsea’s preferred spot was a cute little diner near town (which didn’t exist near Hogsmeade), Adam was cool with anything (which wasn’t helpful) and Yasmin liked the cinema (which was a bloody muggle thing, and Erin couldn’t use  _ muggle venues  _ for her  _ magic date _ ). 

So asking for their advice was also useless.

Then Erin remembered something. Something so utterly perfect that they thought they heard an angel choir as they conjured the idea.

They had a beautiful picnic basket stashed away in their trunk. 

It took two days to get everything ready. Erin made sure their blanket was clean and ready to go, they borrowed a basket off of one of their dormmates, they skipped History of Magic to explore the school for a good spot, they didn’t find a good spot, they moaned for half an hour, they begged the Weasley twins to let them know about a good spot and finally got the house elves to prepare them a picnic. 

Saturday came both so quickly and so slowly that Erin was reminded how weird time was. They found the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that Fred, or was it George, told them about and hopped inside. They set down the blanket, used candles as weights and then suspended some in the air to look like a mini Great Hall. Erin finished just as it turned to five o’clock and started climbing out of the statue.

They were halfway through, trying to propel themselves out of the hole when they were interrupted.

“I was wondering why you picked Gregory the Smarmy.” Trevor said, awkwardly swinging his arms and standing in front of where Erin was stuck.

“Well I needed to borrow some of his charm, but it looks like I got a bit stuck.” Erin tried to grin, but it was difficult when they realised they started this date  _ stuck in a hole in the wall _ .

“Need some help?”

“Please.” Erin couldn’t help but feel themselves go a bright red. This was a bad omen for the rest of the evening, and they knew all about bad omens. They were a year and a half into Divination. 

Trevor helped pull Erin out, laughing as they fell onto their face and their cloak fell over their head. At least, Erin told themselves, the cloak didn’t get caught in their hair. That would have been too much. Unfortunately, however, they spent so long pondering the misfortunes of their life that they forgot where they were.

“So I assume we’re not spending the night admiring the brilliance of Greg’s head.”

“It’s quite a reflective baldness. Very impressive.” Trevor raised an eyebrow, and Erin got nervous again. They could feel butterflies in their stomach fluttering so violently that it was like they were being chased by a doxy. Erin could also feel the doxy. “Actually we’re in here.” They gestured to the closed wall.

“The place you got stuck?”

“Trust me, you arse.” Erin turned to the wall and said the incantation that George, or was it Fred, told her. The bricks slowly parted and the two hurried inside before the wall could trap them again. 

“Woah.”

Erin took that as a good sign.

“Dude this is awesome. Oh man, did you get the House Elves to make us dinner?” Erin shyly nodded in response. “Awesome. Merlin’s beard, you got spaghetti and meatballs? How the hell did you transfer that in a  _ basket _ ?”

“We go to magic school.”

“Fair point.” 

Trevor setup the dinner and the two munched away happily, both glad that this was happening but still unsure on how to act around each other. They’d been friends since first year, and this was all very new. Erin wasn’t sure if they liked it, but at least the meatballs were nice. 

The two finished their profiterole dessert (“Might as well go all out if the House Elves are paying.”) and joked about how wizards hadn’t discovered the wonder of the ball point pen when they realised it might be time to end the night. 

“So...this was fun.” Trevor tried. But Erin was now faced with a panic-inducing situation. Because they were going to be asked to provide their opinions on how the date went to  _ the date in question _ . And this was not good. Because it had been fun, to an extent, but it had also mostly been nerve-wracking and nothing at all like Erin’s fantasies. “What do you think?”

Oh no. No no no no no.

“Y-yeah. Was alright.”

“You’re nervous?” Erin just nodded. At least Trevor picked up on emotions. “Do you want to do this again sometime? It’s okay to say no.”

Erin knew it was not okay to say no. They felt like saying no would ruin the night, would turn it all into a sour memory instead of a mainly pleasant one. But maybe it would be okay if it wasn’t the first? Erin should probably try and stick with this and see if feelings develop, but was that okay? Or was that a totally selfish thing to do?

They just didn’t know.

“Erin?” Trevor tried. “Earth to Erin Late, are you receiving me?”

They were, but they were panicking. When did their wand get in their hand? Trevor put his hand on their shoulder and Erin jumped, a jet of purple light shot out the end of it, hit the ceiling and a worrying shift of rock jolted the two, who became very scared, very quickly.

“We should run.” Erin said.

“Yeah.” Trevor replied.

They were running to the exit wall, Erin desperately repeating the incantation that would let them out as rocks made more noises, each more worrying than the last. After what felt like an age, the hole opened up and Trevor was out of the cave quicker than a golden snitch. 

Erin, once again, got stuck.

Stupid wide hips. 

Trevor grabbed their hands and pulled. Hard. It took a scary few seconds until Erin tumbled out of the wall and the two landed next to each other on the floor, Gregory the Smarmy looking down on them as if he disapproved of the two’s existence. 

‘Same Greg.’ Erin thought. 

The two sort of lay in the corridor, next to one another, just contemplated what had just happened. Then they heard a resounding crash that must have woken up everyone in the school and they were on their feet and running back to the Hufflepuff Common Room ready to tell their friends that their date may have been, and caused, a semi-disaster. 


	5. Peregrine Derrick and the Bludger Strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to see my way of tracking characters: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18w9xYvIcsnfIv6W4th3W2zVVzWzv1nSFvQ7RhxX9Z44/edit?usp=sharing

**1991**

Quidditch had always been followed like some sort of religion at Hogwarts. The entire school seemed to get wrapped up in the excitement for a match; it didn’t matter that only half of the houses had actual representation on the pitch. Everyone showed up to support a team, mostly for selfish ‘if this house wins, then my house has a better chance to win the cup’ reasons, but it didn’t stop them coming out in droves to cheer on the players.

Peregrine Derrick had always been aware of this, he had grown up in the wizarding world after all, and yet he’d never fully comprehended it. Not until this year.

Because this was his first year on the Slytherin team. 

He had known, going in for tryouts, that he was a decent beater. He had muscle behind him, which always helped, and he could navigate a broom pretty well, but he never expected to actually make it onto the team. Especially when he was trying out against Zoe Accrington, a third year with such a connection with the bludgers that Peregrine was convinced she was psychically linked with them. 

If it was any other house, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. And he knew it. 

He didn’t fight it, he’d wanted to make it onto the team after all, but he knew he wasn’t the best person for the job. And yet here he was in the emerald green robes holding a beater’s bat when, at most, he should have just been a reserve.

“You feel it too huh?” His fellow beater, Lucian Bole, sat down next to Peregrine on the bench in the changing room. Lucian ran a hand through his dark hair nervously.

“What? That the only reason we’re on this team is because we’re buff.”

“We’re twelve. I wouldn’t say we’re buff.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

The two sighed. This was their second game playing together, and they knew they needed to sort themselves out if they were going to feel comfortable claiming their spots on the team. Like hell they’d give it up, but it still felt wrong that they’d received their positions that way.

“Just gotta prove we’re worth it I guess.” Peregrine said, shrugging like it was no big deal. But it was. And somehow he knew Lucian understood.

“Not like the Gryffindor match.”

“No, definitely not.” Lucian offered up the beater’s bat and Peregrine hit his against his teammates. “Good luck out there.”

“You too.” Lucian stood up to go and join their team for Flint’s pre-match pep talk. Then he turned back. “Perry?”

“Yeah?” Peregrine didn’t remember giving Lucian permission to call him ‘Perry,’ but he’d wait until after the match to talk to him about it.

“After this match, we should have some extra practice or something. Become a unit. Something that will go down in a Hogwarts legend.” Lucian smirked. “We can totally be more in sync than the bloody Weasley twins.”

“That’s a bit ambitious.”

“What can I say, I’m a snake a heart.” He shrugged, and then gestured for Peregrine to follow him to where the rest of the team were. They could totally do this! Right?

___

“WE DID IT!” Flint was yelling at the top of his lungs, his face glowing with delight for his team. “Boys that was a brilliant match! We crushed those pathetic Hufflepuffs. WE DID IT!”

Peregrine wasn’t sure he’d call the Hufflepuff team ‘pathetic.’ Hell, Diggory had still caught the snitch. But the chase for it had taken so long that the Slytherin chasers managed to get their score high enough so that it wouldn’t matter. And Diggory had been too caught up with the snitch chase to notice.

Well, that and…

“Bole! That was excellent!” Peregrine slapped his teammate on the back in celebration.

“Couldn’t have done it without ya Perry.”

“Bole.” Peregrine clutched at his heart.

“Mate, call me Lucian.” 

“ _ Lucian _ .” Peregrine repeated the tone and gesture. 

“This is the start of something wild, mate. The way you took out that chaser totally opened Pucey up for two goals at  _ least _ .”

“What can I say? I’m a brilliant beater.”

And, for once, Peregrine felt it. He felt like he belonged on this team, he had earned his place among the Quidditch team that had done so well for so long. The snitch chase had to be one of Peregrine’s best moments at Hogwarts so far. Diggory and Higgs were chasing that thing for a full three minutes before it looked like someone had to intervene. Slytherin were only 130 points ahead, and so they couldn’t guarantee victory, and Diggory was a damn good seeker. 

Peregrine’s eyes met Lucian’s, and the two of them formulated a plan over a matter of glances and head gestures. He remembered the commentators confusion at what they were doing.

“Those Slytherin beaters are up to something, wait are they seriously talking to the Chasers? What is going on here? The Quaffle has been left wide open for Hufflepuff to take, Marsh shoots! Marsh...doesn’t score? Well that was a good save from Bletchley I’ll give him...what on earth are Derrick and Bole doing?”

And that was the plan. Delay the snitch. Flint, get ahead at all costs. That’s what Peregrine had said to him and Flint had taken those words to heart. How he didn’t get a foul, the beater had no clue, but that was probably because he was focused on his role with Lucian. The two managed to get full control of the bludgers and lead them towards the seeker race, and then it was just like a game of catch. But with bats. 

The two were hitting those bludgers across the seekers race for about 10 minutes. It only took a couple of hits for Higgs to realise what they were doing and hang back. Peregrine thought he’d helped keep the Hufflepuff beaters back, but again he couldn’t be sure. Either way, they had delayed the capture of the snitch long enough for Slytherin to pull ahead. Which was when Diggory finally captured that little golden ball.

Oh it had been a sweet victory indeed. 

In the changing rooms, Higgs came over to both of them and cheered so loudly that he left their ears ringing. Peregrine hoped the seventh year actually caught a snitch in his final year at Hogwarts, but at least he was happy. 

“Mate, we had  _ full control _ over those bludgers.”

“We gotta meet up and practice or something man, that was incredible.”

The two Slytherin beaters left that changing room with a bond that hadn’t been there when they entered. Only a pair of beaters could feel a connection like that, and Derrick and Bole were a pair of exceptional beaters.

Even if they hadn’t been when they’d been picked for the team. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've been reading omgcp and wanted to write something with a sports team dynamic, and this was really fun ^_^ Also points to anyone who spots the two callbacks to previous everyday hogwarts chapters!


	6. Amy Clover and the Educational Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a year since I've updated...anything, but I was hit with inspiration today and just sort of wrote. And then this happened, and I'm quite happy with it

**1995**

Amy Clover was annoyed.

This was her typical state of being, there was never a day where she  _ wasn’t _ frustrated at her school’s very ineffective ways of coping with being a school, but today was different. Because today she was not only annoyed at the school. She was also annoyed with herself.

She  _ knew _ that there was no was to ensure that her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be good. She  _ knew  _ that two years was a coincidence, three years was a pattern and five was a goddamn curse so  _ of course _ Moody wasn’t going to stay for more than a freaking year. But Amy had assumed, oh so foolishly, that Dumbledore was on a good streak. Lupin had been excellent, Moody had been pretty damn great, so this year they were due someone awesome. Right?  _ Right? _

Wrong.

And yet Amy had chosen to do Defence Against the Dark Arts at N.E.W.T level. She was so goddamn frustrated with herself.

“Honey, stop stressing, you’re going to ace it.”

“No. I am not. Lila.” She snapped at her best friend. “Who the hell sets the  _ history _ of defensive magic as homework?”

“Professor Binns?”

“Oh no my dear Ravenclaw. That would  _ logical _ . No, we have to deal with two feet of parchment on the creation of stupefy. Bloody  _ stupefy _ ! That’s not useful to anyone.” Amy groaned loudly and rolled onto the floor of the Ravenclaw common room. This was her usual state of being when she was stressed. 

“Surely you can check the syllabus and see what you need for the exam?” Lila suggested, trying to make sense out of an awful situation.

“I don’t care about what’s on the exam!” Amy moaned, grumpily refusing to get up off the very comfortable carpeted floor. She couldn’t help but think that this would be a good reading spot. 

“Well then what do you care about?” Bless Lila, she was trying so hard.

“I want to learn.”

“Don’t we all.”

“But not this. This is rubbish. I want proper learn.”

“Amy. Full sentences please.” Amy made a noise that probably meant no. “You’re not making sense, just like your homework assignment.”

That worked. Amy was up and back in her chair in less time than it takes for Gryffindors to disrupt a class. Then her open textbook caught her eye and any kind of inspiration Lila’s words had given her floated away. There was no way Umbridge had any idea what kids needed to learn in order to take these skills away from her class and have the course enrich their lives beyond their education. 

“I just want to be able to take skills away from this class. Feel like my N.E.W.Ts weren’t a huge waste of time, you know?” Amy asked, flicking through the book again. 

“I know. Unfortunately, you always knew Defence Against the Dark Arts was going to be a gamble.” Lila smiled sadly. “I think you just have to try and get through it with a pass.”

Amy let out the longest, most exasperated groan she ever had in her life.

But she knew Lila was right. And finally, she figured out something to do to ease her frustration: channel it into another very annoying aspect of her life.

“I’m going to try and get more post-Hogwarts advice from Flitwick.”

___

This was a typical way for Amy to spend a Thursday evening. In fact, she was pretty sure Flitwick had started to set aside 15 minutes every week because, like clockwork, Amy always seemed to end up here. It wasn’t her fault she was constantly changing what she wanted to do with her life. 

At least it was halfway through her sixth year when was worrying about it. Amy was so indecisive that she really couldn’t have left it any later if she was going to be setting herself up for graduation. 

She knocked twice on the door before it opened. Flitwick was sitting behind his desk, marking essays, when he looked up with a spark in his eye. He set his quill aside slowly.

“Ah, Miss Clover. How are you this evening?” 

“Frustrated.”

“A common feeling these days, my girl.” He smiled. “Have a seat.”

She did, happily. There was even a cup of tea waiting for her on the desk.

“So, what brings you here on this lovely Thursday evening?” Her Charms professor asked.

“I don’t think the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is right for me after all.” She admitted. That was the decision they had come to a couple weeks ago, and had been discussing specifics since. Amy knew Flitwick wouldn’t be annoyed though, he had told her that it had taken him a long time to realise that teaching was his future. He’d spent a large portion of his youth as a professional duellist, after all. 

“What makes you say that, Miss Clover?” He asked, leaning forward. 

“If the ministry works like...I’ve heard it works.” Flitwick raised an eyebrow. He knew immediately that Amy hadn’t ‘heard’ anything, she’d just inferred that if Umbridge was considered a good ministry official then maybe she didn’t want to be a part of that system. That didn’t really leave her with many options though. “Then I don’t think it would suit me and my way of working.”

Flitwick made a thoughtful sound, then he nodded.

“If the ministry stays like it is now, I think you might be right.”

“So...what should I do?”

“Keep studying, keep learning, and make sure you get your colour change charms sorted young lady.”

“I meant with my life.”

“Well that’s a much more complicated question.” Flitwick smiled. He usually did this. He was a very dramatic man, but Amy had only recently realised the extent of those dramatics. That usually happened when you took a N.E.W.T class though, you got to know the teacher and realised that they were actually just as human as you are. 

“I know. That’s why I’m stuck.”

“What really brought you here Miss Clover?” He had seen through her. Again. 

“I don’t like only studying the theory of Defence of Dark Arts. It’s not practical, it doesn’t make what we’re learning relevant and I’m a true believer that you can only gain a true understanding of spells and disciplines by actively engaging with them.” Wow. Amy gave herself a mental pat on the back for how rehearsed that sounded. 

“So you want to gain a true understanding of the discipline of Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

Amy took a few moments to think about the question. 

“I think so. I’m just fascinated with how human charms are relatively difficult and human transfiguration takes a mastery of the theory to cast, and yet you can cast hexes and jinxes with relative ease in first year. What’s the difference? And the fundamental make-up of the spells is so particular about what you do to someone, and yet you don’t have to picture it in your head like with transfiguration. And it’s one of the few disciplines I know that have researchers in the Ministry that are made public knowledge.”

“Miss Clover, would you like to continue studying Defence Against the Dark Arts with experts in the field?”

“Yes of course, but I thought you could only do that if you intended to use it with the Aurors?”

“That’s a myth. Everything’s a myth these days if I’m being honest, but you don’t need to concern yourself too much with that.” Amy frowned, but Flitwick quickly shook his head to say that that train of thought had come to a stop. “I can put you in contact with a past student of mine, Peter Redwood. He’s in Russia where there’s a group of academics who have come together to research the field you’re interested in.”

“That sounds brilliant!”

“Yes. It won’t be easy, but I think this is something that is worth you looking into.” 

“Thank you so much Professor.” Amy said sincerely as she stood to leave. She wished him luck in his marking and then made her way back to the Ravenclaw common room, her mind much calmer than it had been earlier in the evening. Sure, Amy was so indecisive that she might not actually pursue this opportunity, but it was always nice to know that her professor had her back and was ready to support her in what she needed. 

This would probably lead to nothing though.

  
Probably. 


End file.
